


Paths

by MrsHamill



Series: Sandman Crossover Project [8]
Category: The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Multiple Crossovers, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 22:03:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6026857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The paths we take and the ones we don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paths

**Author's Note:**

> For Linda, who asked for this one. Of course, I couldn't just stick to Movie!Haldir, because I know too much about the universe as it is.

* * *

It was simply infuriating.

He walked north, along the great Anduin, every step taking him farther away from his home, from his true duty as warden of the northmarch of Lorien. That the Lady herself had assigned him this trip made no difference at all.

"Your brothers will take your place, but you are needed elsewhere." The Lady of the Galadhrim's voice was, as always, musical and soft, but he knew from experience that there was a core of steel in her. "There have been foreseeings. You will be needed, to the south. But first you will go north. At the ford of Carrock you will meet with some of Thranduil's people. Then you will go west, to Rivendell, where Lord Elrond has others who will be accompanying you."

He knew she had sensed his reluctance, his near-outrage. "Would you prefer to send Rumil, or perhaps Orophin on this mission?" she asked him.

Remembering his place, he bowed his head. "No, my Lady. I will do as you command."

Lord Celeborn's voice hadn't pretended to gentility. "You will be needed, far south of here," he repeated. "Those who have just left will be in dire straights, and will need you and the Elven fighters you will bring with you."

"Yes, my Lord." He had gritted his teeth but complied with as much grace as he could muster, but he had wanted to shout, they are mere Humans! What business could the Eldar possibly have with Humans? It was a foolish quest, one that he would have preferred not to have. There was darkness coming. They should all be on boats to the Undying Lands, not doddering about in Middle Earth, waiting for the Humans to bring about catastrophe.

Instead of speaking, he walked north, further and further. The next day, he would be at the ford of Carrock and would meet with more Sindarin, then they would cross the Misty Mountains to Rivendell. There, apparently, they would meet up with other of the Eldar before traveling south on the fool's errand.

He even had a few Lorien folk with him, those who had actually volunteered to help the Humans on their doomed quest. It just proved that Humans were not the sole owners of idiocy in the world.

The sun was westering. With the mountains so close and the year so late, twilight fell earlier than he was used to. He kept his eyes on the ground as he tried to keep his mind blank.

The crunch of unfamiliar stones under his feet made him falter. There were no paved paths between Lorien and Carrock, but he seemed to have found one. He looked up and stopped outright. He was no longer in the wilderness.

He looked about, utterly confused. He was in some sort of garden with broad, stone-paved paths running every which way, crisscrossing themselves. When he turned his eyes front again, he realized he wasn't alone, either. A very tall person, completely cloaked in a brown robe and bearing a huge, open book, stood before him.

"Your... your pardon... sir?"  


The being answered him in perfect Quenyar. "You have a choice to make, Eldar. You stand at a crossroad, and you must choose. I cannot move until you do."

He blinked. This was passing strange. "Who are you? Where am I?"

"You are in my garden. I am your host until you decide the path you will take."

"I don't understand."

"Left will take you, eventually, south, where you will fight a battle that cannot be won. Right will take you away from that, and put you on a ship to the Undying Lands. You must choose."

This was absurd. "I am on the road to Carrock. How did I end up here?"

"You are in my garden, Eldar. You must choose."

He was about to open his mouth to speak hotly when something made him pause. Perhaps it was the deep shadows of the hood covering the person's head, perhaps it was something else. He felt suddenly uneasy, aware that something quite beyond his ken was happening.

"If it is a battle that cannot be won, then why fight it?" He asked, slowly, warily.

"That I cannot tell you. I do not tell why, I only tell what is."

He looked at the tall person -- a Human? an Elf? he could not tell -- and frowned. "You say if I turn to the right, I will go into the Uttermost West?"

"Yes."

"If I do, what will happen in the battle that cannot be won?"

"It will merely be lost that much worse. Some who might have lived will die."

Yes, this was exceedingly strange. He felt a chill dart up his spine. "My Lady has said there will be need for me and others, to the south of here. To help men, specifically those who recently visited Lorien; Elessar and his companions. Will they be in the battle that cannot be won? Will my going to the West hurt them?"

The being before him was silent, and he thought yes, there is the meat of the decision. He had only to ask the right questions.

"Lord Elessar is passionate in his love of all things Middle Earth. It will mean his death, even if he wins the day..." He stopped, caught in the thought, then continued after a moment, far more slowly. "I know what he bears. It will get him killed -- we cannot contest with the Dark Lord and win. But he seems to believe we can."

"You must choose, Eldar. Nothing will continue until you do."

He stood, poised with indecision, trying to weigh the alternatives on a scale that was objective. He was Sindarin; his father had stopped before crossing the Misty Mountains and so he had stopped as well, even though the light of the Two Trees gleamed in the west, a beacon for him and a pull that was undeniable. If he stayed in Middle Earth, he could die in this unwinnable battle. Would his spirit join those of Feanor and the mighty Gil-Galad in the halls of Mandos?

He was not even sure the halls of Mandos was where their spirits resided. It was the Humans who had the Gift of Eru, not the Quendi. But had that unknowable thing stopped Gil-Galad from fighting? From dying?

"And if I do not choose?" he finally asked, softly, so very softly.

"You must. Nothing will continue until you do."

Haldir, son of Halath and brother to Rumil and Orophin, straightened his back. He was Eldar. He answered to his Lady and to the Valar. He would do what he must, to do anything else would be dishonorable. "I will go left." Suiting actions to words, he turned left and walked off into his destiny.


End file.
